Anidala: Until We Meet Again
by StopPanakin
Summary: Told in vignettes, this story begins with Obi-Wan Kenobi bidding farewell to the love of his life. Then, years later, the story shifts forward in time to depict Anakin and Padme's wedding night-as well as the last night they share before the events of Revenge of the Sith. WARNING: Contains a sex scene. This fanfiction is NOT intended for anyone under the age of 18.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**(Mandalore, 37 BBY)**

Standing in the shadows of one of the few trees remaining on Mandalore, Obi-Wan Kenobi waited. He was at the edge of what had once been the Mandalorian capital of Keldabe, surrounded on all sides by fallen structures and a barely breathable atmosphere. Much the same could be said of the entire planet; after the Mandalorian Clan Wars had seen the advent of proton bomb attacks, the surface of Mandalore had been reduced to a scorched wasteland. Save for the few biodomes which contained the few still-standing cities, the planet was nothing but white ash and thick, toxic smog, as if the Clan Wars had persuaded the planet itself to go wage battle upon any lifeform that dared live on her surface.

Obi-Wan shook his head. What a waste. And for what? As far as he was concerned, no one had come out on top in these wars. With most of the Mandalorian people wiped out by the fighting, the few remaining Mandalorians had inherited not the victory that was promised to them by their clan leaders, but had instead found themselves faced with the grueling reality of rebuilding their world-and what was left of the lives they'd led before.

He would've liked to stay here to help. Force knew that the people of Mandalore needed every bit of help they could get-but that wasn't his path. He and his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been called elsewhere, to a place that was probably suffering just as much as Mandalore.

Or so he told himself.

Running a hand over the stubble that had grown on his face over the past few days, Obi-Wan tried to remind himself of what he already knew. He was a Jedi apprentice, a title for which he had very nearly never attained-at least before Qui-Gon had seen the potential that even Obi-Wan himself wasn't privy to. If he walked away from this role, from this identity, he would always live in regret. He would always wonder, speculate, ask himself, "What could I have been?"

Certainly, he would live with regret either way. That was the nature of love; it always demanded a choice, even for those who weren't sworn to uphold the statutes of the Jedi Code. The main difference between him and ordinary people, however, was that they weren't being forced into an ultimatum. They weren't forced to choose between the future they'd been fighting all their lives to achieve and the future they'd only realized recently that they wanted.

They didn't have to choose between being a Jedi and being with the love of your life.

From the shadows in which he stood, Obi-Wan could now see that the moment he had been regretting for months, since the moment he'd understood he was in love, was drawing near. In the weak light of Mandalore's smog-obscured sky, a woman was making her way toward him, her simple blue dress a stark contrast to the near colorlessness of her surroundings. Although he couldn't see them from this distance, he knew that her eyes were even more strikingly blue than her dress. He should know; over the past year, there was no telling how often he'd gazed straight into those eyes and found in them the piece of himself he had never known he was missing.

In Satine Kryze, he'd discovered the one thing the Jedi couldn't offer him: Love.

Of course, his life wasn't entirely devoid of love. Despite their differences over the years, Obi-Wan had always held a familial affection for his master, Qui-Gon Jinn-and he had no doubt that the feeling was mutual. But there was something different about loving-and being love by-Satine. Perhaps it was because they fit each other, because they complimented each other's strengths and made up for each other's weaknesses. Perhaps it was because they became something new together, two people who were better off for loving one another fully. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he needed desperately for someone to be tender toward him, to show him the kind of affection and care that Satine had wished for all her life to give.

Whatever it was, his feelings toward Satine were special.

As she came into the shadows with him, he recognized how truly special this love was. Everything about Satine was lovely, from the delicate structure of her face to the compassion and inner strength that lay just beneath the surface. He could get lost in her-in the sparkling blueness of her eyes, in the shining brilliance of her spirit. It was only the thought of the pain that would follow this encounter that kept him from allowing himself to be absorbed into her, drawn into the loveliness of all that she was.

From the look in her eyes, he could tell that she, too, was having to exercise the same restraint. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to; during those long nights together, when his master had fallen fast asleep in his own tent, he'd refrained from sharing a bed with her or doing anything else he knew he might later regret. But that didn't mean Obi-Wan didn't wish they could let down their guard for one minute and make the most of the time they had left.

"I'm glad you're still here," she said, although her eyes said something deeper than her words could ever express.

"So am I," he replied quietly.

Her eyes dropped to the ground. "I wanted to tell you something before you left."

Obi-Wan felt as if his heart had stopped. Was she going to ask him to stay? Did she want him to remain here, with her-not just to help rebuild the planet, but to make a life together? Force knew that if she did, his answer would a simple and unequivocal "yes". In fact, the only reason he was prepared to leave now was due to the fact that she'd never asked him not to.

"I have something I'd like you to have," she continued. She opened one of her hands, revealing a small metal trinket in the palm of her hand. "It's something to remember me by."

Now Obi-Wan felt as though his heart had not only stopped, but fallen completely out of his chest. So she wasn't here to ask him to stay. He'd expected as much; she knew what being a Jedi meant to him, and she would never be so selfish as to ask him to leave the only role to which he'd ever aspired. But it still cut him to the core to finally know that this was the end, that this marked the death of their all-too brief life together.

Pushing his moment of pain aside, he peered at the trinket she held in her hand. It looked like a lock-and not just any lock. Most locks in the galaxy relied on hydraulics or electromagnetism to accomplish their job, but this one was a simple, mechanical lock without any hint of advanced technology. Beside it was an equally simple key, one he assumed fit perfectly into the small lock.

"I haven't seen one of these in ages," he said, realizing it had been almost ten years since he had been to a planet backwards enough to still use a simple lock and key system.

"Some of the Clans on Mandalore still use them," she said in explanation. "My father's Clan is no exception. He gave this to me before he sent me off to Coruscant to study political science."

A flash of pain emanated from Satine, and it was all he could do not to wrap her in his arms and try to take some of that pain onto himself. "I wished I could have met him. Qui-Gon said he was an honorable man."

"He was," Satine agreed, her voice tight. He knew that she was trying to hold back tears, that she was trying not to weep in front of him. "When I saw him last, he gave the key to me and kept the lock. He said I was the key to unlocking his heart."

Obi-Wan looked away, letting his eyes rest on the ashen ground. "Satine, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," she retorted, the tightness in her voice replaced by a solemn resolve. "After he died, I never thought I could love someone again. You showed me that I could."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. It seemed stupid and childish to be fighting her on this, especially since it obviously meant so much to her. The least he could do for her, to help ease the pain of their parting and thank her for the brief year they'd shared together, was to allow her this moment. "I'm glad I could do that for you, Satine."

She held out her open palm, the lock and key resting there as if they carried no more significance than a pair of dejarik dice. "So am I."

He dared to meet her brilliantly blue eyes. "Which one is for me?"

"The key," she said, her gaze holding his. "Keep that key with you whenever you wish to be close to me."

He cleared his throat. "And if I…"

He couldn't finish it. He didn't want to. But Satine, picking up on what he dared not say, nodded and kept her face artfully neutral. Only someone with Force powers would have known that her disinterested expression was belied by the pain that roared within her.

"If you ever need to let me ago," she said, answering his unspoken question, "You throw the key into an ocean-or a lake, if you're in a pinch. Where it is hardly matters; the fact that it's no longer with you will mean that you can carry on without me."

Even though he'd been entertaining the same thought, had been wondering when the time would come for him to let go of his love for this woman, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wince. "The way you put it, it sounds a bit harsh."

"Being able to let someone go isn't the same as not loving them," she reminded him quietly.

Sighing, he dragged a hand over his face. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, wrap her in one last warm embrace. He wanted to let her know that he would always care for her, regardless of whether he held her close to his heart or if he let her go. But he knew that he couldn't. Saying it aloud would make it real, and making it real would deepen his already considerable pain.

The only thing he could do was take the key into his hand and tuck into his tunic pocket, the one sewn right above his heart.


	2. Memories

**NOW (Naboo, 19 BBY)**

"Anakin, did you even hear a word of what I just said?"

Anakin Skywalker blinked himself out of his brief reverie. Standing directly in front of him was the familiar figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin's friend and former master-although he'd bet his starfighter that Obi-Wan often intentionally ignored the "former" part. Right now Obi-Wan was dressed in full Jedi robes, and had his arms folded across his chest in that particular way he had. He was also wearing that undeniably Kenobi frown, a mixture of pursed lips and an unrelenting stare that could make even the most seasoned Jedi break into a nervous sweat.

Anakin resisted the temptation to do just that. He and Obi-Wan had known each other since Anakin was a small boy, and as such, they were almost perfectly attuned to one another's feelings. That included Obi-Wan's tacit understanding that there was only one thing in the galaxy that could make Anakin nervous; he could very distinctly recall Obi-Wan first picking up on the feeling just before the outbreak of the Clone Wars, when they had been assigned to protect a certain galactic senator from would-be assassins.

The very same senator Anakin had been daydreaming about before Obi-Wan's interruption.

He knew it was a dangerous venture in Obi-Wan's presence, but he couldn't help it. Being back on Naboo again, after all his time spent fighting in a pointless and bloody war, was intoxicating. There wasn't an inch of this beautiful world that didn't beckon him back in time to relive some of the most wonderful moments of his life.

The area they were in now was particularly meaningful to him. This was the lake country of Naboo, the quaint, verdant countryside where he had hidden Padme from assassins all those years ago. It has here, on the balcony of one of the lake houses, that he and Padme had shared their first kiss. It was here, too, where they had later been wed-and where they had spent their first night together, consummating the love neither of them could deny.

But he could hardly share that with Obi-Wan. Ever the consummate Jedi, his former master was a stickler for the Jedi Code, including the Code's prohibition of attachment. There was no way he'd be anything less than disappointed to find out that Anakin had wed a prominent galactic senator somewhere along the shores of the lake by which they now stood-and worse, Anakin feared his friend wouldn't hesitate to report his forbidden wedlock to the Jedi Council.

And that...well, that just _hurt_. It hurt him to know that his closest friend-one of his only friends, now that Ahsoka was out of the picture-would so easily turn on him. Of course, he shouldn't take it personally; Obi-Wan would only be doing his duty, after all. But it still cut Anakin to his core to know that his friend, the man he considered as both father and brother, placed lofty, unattainable Jedi ideals ahead of their friendship.

Well, not _totally_ unattainable. Obi-Wan himself had once fallen for a woman, but he was somehow able to put his feelings behind him and carry on with his Jedi duties. He had even been able to deal with her death without allowing himself to succumb to the dark side, and in the year that had gone by since her passing, he had shown himself capable of surmounting the sea of grief and regret that would have overwhelmed any ordinary man.

Although Anakin was far from ordinary, he knew that he certainly wouldn't have dealt with Padme's death in such a stoic manner.

If anything ever happened to Padme, he would want to tear the galaxy to pieces.

Obi-Wan's sigh brought him back to the present. "Anakin, I swear you're just as scatter-brained as when you were a padawan."

Anakin shook his head, silently admonishing himself for being so careless. "I'm sorry, master. It's just that being here...I can get lost in memories."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. His gaze softened as he rested a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You've come a long way since then, my friend."

Anakin was grateful when he realized that the Jedi master was referring to when they had helped Naboo defend herself from the Trade Federation, _not _to the time he had spent here with Padme. "And so have you, master."

A hint of a smile showed beneath Obi-Wan's beard. "Is that a polite way of saying I've aged since then?"

Anakin couldn't help but smile in return. In the years since they had defended Naboo, Obi-Wan had certainly grown older. The strain of wartime had added several lines around his eyes and a few hints of silver to his auburn hair, and the past year in particular had drained most of the youthful spark from his expression.

"We've both seen better days," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan's slight smile turned rueful. "I'm afraid we have." His hand fell away from Anakin's shoulder. "That's why I suggested a minute ago that you get some rest while we're here. I understand that the Council sent us here to oversee the Peace Summit, but it would be unwise for us to ignore an opportunity for a much-needed respite. I fear we won't have much time to ourselves in the coming months, especially with how the Outer Rims Sieges have been ramping up."

Anakin nodded as if he were calmly acknowledging Obi-Wan's words, despite the fact that a mixture of excitement and dread warred within him. On the one hand, Obi-Wan's permission to rest would allow him time to see Padme while the Jedi oversaw the Naboo Peace Summit, which Padme and several other senators had organized as an attempt to find a peaceful endto the war. On the other hand, the reality that this might be his last time to see Padme until who-knows-how-long punched him hard in the gut. He'd already spent so much time apart from his wife during this war, and the thought of being separated from her again made him feel like his knees were about to give way.

Obi-Wan must have felt some of his anguish because the older man reached out and clasped his shoulder, a warm smile painting his tired features. "Come now, Anakin. Let me be the one to focus on the negatives for once. Enjoy being young while you still can."

Anakin grinned. "You mean before I become an old man like you?"

"Tut-tut, Anakin. Such disrespect," Obi-Wan said, feigning offense. "Who could have trained you to be so cheeky? Because it certainly wasn't me."

"Keep telling yourself that, old man."

Obi-Wan held up his hands, a gesture of mock-surrender. "All right, all right. I give up. It was certainly foolish of me to think I could deal better insults than the oh-so great Anakin Skywalker.."

Anakin's grin widened. "I'm glad you know talent when you see it."

"Yes. Well. I'm glad I'm going to get a break from all those insults...at least for the evening."

Anakin's grin wavered briefly. He was happy to hear that he might get some much-needed time alone with his wife, but he was wary of letting Obi-Wan know how excited he was to be rid of him. His friend was doubtless privy to the fact that Anakin was always ecstatic whenever they returned to Coruscant, and although the Jedi master had yet to confront him about it, he had a feeling that Obi-Wan might suspect that a certain senator was the cause of his excitement. If he were to exhibit the same elation while attending a Peace Summit led by Padme...well, his friend might begin to put the pieces together.

"For the evening?" Anakin repeated, his tone carefully neutral. "I thought the Summit sessions usually ended before that?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "This isn't for the Summit. I've something personal to take care of."

"Oh?" He barely tried to mask the curiosity in his tone. Obi-Wan rarely did anything personal-unless, of course, you counted his personal meditation sessions, which Anakin didn't count. To Anakin, "personal" meant anything "not Jedi-related," and he wasn't sure if his friend had anything left in his life that _wasn't_ somehow linked to the Order. Even his relationship with Anakin was tied to the Jedi.

His former master raised an eyebrow. "Does that surprise you?"

"Well, yeah," Anakin said. "No offense, master, but you really don't have much of a life."

"And you do?"

Anakin didn't say anything. How could he? For all he knew, Obi-Wan had noticed that his former pupil had a habit of spending his nights on Coruscant outside the Jedi Temple. Perhaps he had even begun to wonder if Anakin was leading another life, some other existence that was separate from the Jedi.

Obi-Wan lowered his head and sighed. "I think I'd best be getting off."

"And I guess I should go try to get some rest," Anakin said in a measured tone.

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. There was an odd look on his face, a look Anakin couldn't quite place. Was it suspicion? No, Obi-Wan usually frowned when he was suspicious, and he certainly wasn't frowning now. In fact, his expression was flat-yet somehow managed to speak volumes of a feeling Anakin wasn't sure how to describe. "Yes, I think that would be best."

With that, they shared a long look, one that was mingled with pain. Despite the fact that he had an opportunity to spend a night with his wife, Anakin regretted leaving Obi-Wan alone. And Obi-Wan...well, Anakin wasn't sure if his old master was sad to see him go or if there was something he wanted to share with him, if only he could find the words.

"Well, whatever it is you have planned," Anakin said, conjuring up a weak smile, "may the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan returned him with a small but nonetheless warm smile. "And with you. Try not to get into too much trouble."

Bowing farewell to the older Jedi, Anakin couldn't help but smile. Although Obi-Wan most likely didn't realize it, his words had almost echoed exactly what he'd said to Anakin just before he and Padme's clandestine wedding, all those years ago. He'd been annoyed with Obi-Wan then, but now he relished the memory, if only because it reminded him of what was easily the most wonderful day of his life.

Heading toward the lake house where his wife would soon meet him, Anakin allowed himself a small smile as he let the memories carry him away.

**THEN (Naboo, 22 BBY)**

"Anakin?"

Padme's voice-so soft, so sweet-brought him back to the present. For a moment he had been transported back to that cave on Geonosis, reliving the agony of losing his arm to Count Dooku. He could even feel some of the pain of the injury again, the stub of his right arm throbbing where it was attached to his new prosthetic, a device that had been surgically implanted less than a week ago. It took a willful effort and Padme's presence to numb the pain of that memory, but even then he found that his heart was still racing from his brief but all-too-real flashback.

Forcing himself to slow his breathing, Anakin looked to where Padme stood, poised on a wooden step a few feet ahead of him. Her large brown eyes were gazing at him in concern, and he could feel her hand tighten its grip on his flesh-and-blood hand. She wasn't a Jedi, but she still knew him better than most and didn't have to be told that something was amiss.

"I'm fine, Padme," he said, though he was certain his words didn't fool Padme. Even he had to admit that his statement sounded hollow, unconvincing. "You don't have to worry about me."

Padme closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Ani, please don't do this. I'm your wife now; you don't have to hide from me."

His heartbeat quickened. That word, that single, powerful word: _Wife. _That word reminded him where he was, brought him fully to the present. He wasn't in that awful cave on Geonosis any longer; he was here, on Naboo, holding the hand of the most beautiful creature in the galaxy. And that stunning, arresting beauty was his to share in, all because of that one word.

_Wife._

Less than an hour ago, they'd been clandestinely wed by a Naboo holy man, sealing the love they had tried to suppress but could no longer deny. It had been Padme's idea; she, after all, had been the one to convince Obi-Wan to let him escort her back to Naboo. But secretly, this was what Anakin had been hoping for since he first set eyes on her all those years ago, when she'd wandered into that little junkshop on Tattooine. He'd thought of her everyday since, dreamed of her every night. When everything else in his life looked bleak-when he felt like an outsider in the Jedi Temple, when his master didn't seem to understand the pain he carried from leaving behind his mother-the hope that some miracle of destiny might bring them together had sustained him, carrying him through his darkest moments.

And now that they were finally together, she was still doing this for him. She was still what kept him on his feet when the tide of grief over his mother's death threatened to drown him, or when he found himself suddenly back in that Geonosis cave, his arm pulsing with agony. She was what kept him from losing himself to the darkness that eddied just beneath his skin, giving him strength to push it back for another hour, another minute. She was, in all senses of the word, his life, because he doubted he could continue without her.

Without Padme, Anakin Skywalker would cease to be.

And because of this, because of what she did for him, he knew that he owed her the truth. After all, how could he take so much from her and not give her this one, simple thing? It would be like draining an ocean and refusing to give back a single drop.

"I had another one of those...moments," he said, lowering his head.

The concern in Padme's eyes deepened. "You felt like you were back in the cave?"

He nodded. "I can't stop it sometimes. It gets better, when I'm with you, but even then it might not be enough." He looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I'm ruining this day for you."

Padme's expression transformed from one of concern to one of disbelief. "Ani, how could you say something like that? I don't care if this day is 'perfect'; I just want you to be alright. And if that means that we have to spend the rest of the night talking through this, I would do it gladly."

"But I _am_ alright," he insisted, and when she raised an eyebrow at him, he amended it and said, "I'm alright _now_. You make me alright."

And it was true. Seeing her standing there, poised on the steps that would lead them up to the bedroom in which they would spend their first wedded night, he felt all of his pain dissipate. As long as he could be near her, these next few weeks of war preparations would be okay.

Perhaps Padme recognized the truth of this in his eyes because her dubiousness melted away, replaced with a vulnerability that made her look deceptively fragile and small. "What if I can't make you alright? What if you have to go off to war and can't see me, or something happened to me-"

"That's not for you to worry about," he said softly, drawing her close.

"But it is," she insisted, putting a hand to his chest so he couldn't draw her completely in. "I can't be the only thing that you live for. Think about it: If something happened to me, how would you go on?"

"Padme, please. Listen. I need something more than just a 'purpose' to live for. I'm not like Obi-Wan; I don't find meaning from simply being a Jedi. I find meaning from people-especially the people that I love." He smiled shyly down at her. "Especially people like you."

At that, she softened a little and let him draw her in, no longer offering any resistance. He bent down to kiss the top of her head, letting his lips linger there for a blessed few seconds to revel in the silkiness of her hair. Then, a little nervously, he cupped his flesh-and-blood hand under her chin, gently tilting her face so he could look into her deep brown eyes.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I know," she replied, voice scarcely a whisper.

And...well, he wasn't sure what to do now. Before, he'd always gone on instinct; it had been his gut, not his head, that had told him to press his lips to Padme's when they'd stood by the lake on Naboo. But that had been before-before the outbreak of the war, before he'd lost his mother to the Tuskens and lost his arm to a Sith lord. Now that he was in the here and now, in the world where his failure had cost his mother her life and the galaxy its millenia-long peace, he was uncertain of himself. He could even feel it in his own body, in the way he tentatively touched his wife despite the flood of passion he felt for her, in the way he handled her as though she were a porcelain statue about to break.

Concern once more filled Padme's gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I-" He swallowed, trying to loosen the tightness he felt in his throat. "I-I don't know what to do."

"Anakin, it's okay. You'll get through these flashbacks. You're smart and capable and strong and I know you'll be able to-"

"That's not what I mean," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not talking about the war or my flashbacks." He gestured broadly to the lake house above them, where their wedding suite awaited. "I mean I don't know what to do here. With you."

"Neither do I," she reminded him, a small smile forming her lips. "The most I've ever done is hold hands with a boy, and even then that was only one time-"

Again, he interrupted her with a shake of his head. "It's not...that stuff. I'm just…" He sighed, struggling to find the words. "It's just that I don't feel like know I anything anymore. I was so sure I could save my mom, and then I was so sure I could stop the war by killing Dooku, but I failed both times. And because of that failure, people got hurt. People I cared about. Obi-Wan almost died and my mother-well, you know what happened there."

"Everyone fails," she pointed out.

"But not everyone hurts people like I do!"

"Yes, they do," Padme replied evenly. "That's your doubt talking, not the truth."

"What if it is the truth? What if I hurt everyone I touch and I'll hurt you and-"

This time it was her turn to interrupt him. "Ani, you are not going to hurt me. I trust you. I trust you _completely. _And now you need to trust yourself."

"But I-"

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "No 'buts'. You're going to stop worrying about who you'll hurt and you're going to let yourself enjoy this day. It's supposed to be the happiest day of your life and I'll be damned if I let Dooku, or your failure, or anything else from your past ruin this for you. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Do you trust me?"

Again, he nodded in response.

"Then trust me to help you. Can you do that for me?"

In answer, he offered no resistance as she took his hand in hers and stepped back, leading him toward the stairs. His feet felt heavy, as if the weight of his self-doubt had manifested physically, but she didn't let him stop moving. Instead she gazed into his eyes the entire time she led him up the stairs, causing his body to feel as if she had filled it with the warmth of her soul. By the time they reached the bedroom door, he knew that warmth had melted parts him, thawing the doubts that had weighed him down until he felt light enough that he could shoot through the roof and fly, carrying Padme off into the orange flame of the Naboo sunset.

"Pick me up," she commanded softly, letting go of his hand.

Understanding what she wanted him to do, he bent low and scooped Padme off her feet, cradling her in his arms with the reverence of a man in the presence of a goddess. A little awkwardly, he worked to open the door, and, with her still in his arms, he slid open the door and crossed over the threshold. He then set her gently on her feet and closed the door behind them.

"Kiss me," she said.

Now somewhat less pensive than before, he took hold of her hands and tenderly drew her mouth to his. The kiss was soft at first, reassuring, but as time passed the kiss deepened, grew into something more. Where he had once let his lips simply brush against hers, he was letting himself linger there and push-gently at first, then hard enough that his tongue pushed past her lips. He let himself explore what was there, enjoying the sweetness of her mouth while he allowed his hands to slide onto Padme's waist.

He rested where he was for a moment, relishing in the feeling of being with her in this new way. Then he decided to try for even newer territory. Breathing heavily, he drew his mouth away from hers and pressed his lips to the area of neck just below her jawline, eliciting a small sigh from his wife. Encouraged by that, he began moving up and down her neck with his kisses, savoring the moments when he caused her to shiver or catch her breath in surprise.

Still working his way up and down her neck, he allowed his hands to run down her waist. His hands moved slowly at first, cautiously, as if a touch at the wrong spot could topple her over. But when he sensed her pleasure at his touch, he decided it was time to be a little more daring. Rather than merely run his hands down her waist, he permitted his hands to roam across his wife's body, exploring the curve of her hips and thighs before he finally dared to rest his hands on her backside.

Timidly, he stopped kissing her neck and met her gaze. "Is this okay?"

Padme smiled. "Yes, Ani. This is okay."

He returned the smile, although his was somewhat more reticent than hers. "Should I keep doing what I'm doing?"

Her smile widened. "Maybe you should up the ante a little bit."

Anakin chuckled, still a bit nervous. "And how should I do that?"

Her slender hands reached for his, weaving them together as if to form some sort of magnificent tapestry. "Undress me."

At that, Anakin's breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen a woman in any state of undress before, even if he counted the scantily clad dancers that swarmed Coruscant's seedier nightclubs. And he certainly hadn't seen a woman naked. In fact, perhaps the only unclothed person he'd seen was that of his own reflection when he dressed in the morning, and he didn't even particularly feel comfortable seeing that. He didn't like being reminded that despite the considerable height he'd grown to, he was still as thin and wiry as he had been when he was a boy.

"It's okay," his wife said quietly. "I'm a little nervous too." She turned around and reached toward the zipper in the back of her lacy white dress. "Here. I'll even get it started for you."

Heart fluttering with a mixture of fear and excitement, he watched as Padme started to pull the zipper down. He hesitated a moment, heart now hammering madly within his chest, and placed his hands over hers. At that, her hands fell to her side as he took the zipper in his own hands, slowly revealing more of his wife's soft, porcelain skin as he inched the zipper downward.

Recalling how she had reacted to his earlier treatment of her neck, he started kissing his way down her back, following just behind the path of the zipper. Another sigh escaped from Padme as he trailed down her spine, making every kiss linger. He only stopped once he reached the small of her back, a few inches above the hem of her lacy underwear. Even then, though, he didn't truly stop; rather than shower her back with his lips, he stroked her spine with his hands. In response, Padme gave a tiny shiver-a reaction that was at least in part due to the metallic cold of his prosthetic hand.

"Lift up your arms," Anakin commanded quietly.

Without a word, Padme obeyed his command, lifting her slender arms above her head. Moving away from her back, Anakin bent to gather the bottom of her dress in his arms. For being so delicate and lacy, the fabric was surprisingly heavy, especially compared to the lightness of his practical Jedi robes. But for once in his life, Anakin appreciated the fact that an article of clothing had been designed with something higher in mind than mere practicality. This dress was made with the sole intent of revealingl the beauty of its wearer, of broadcasting her stunning perfection to a galaxy that was now bent on destroying itself in an ugly, endless war.

Silently, scarcely daring to breathe, Anakin carefully lifted the dress up and over Padme's head, revealing a sight that nearly caused his heart to stop. Save for the parts concealed under her lacy white underwear, his wife's body was mostly open to him now, daring him to explore it, to love it. And he did just that. Struck with awe, as if he were being allowed to gaze upon the goddess of beauty herself, he traced his hands up and down her skin, delighting in the discovery of so many untouched places.

Her back still to him, Padme leaned her head against his shoulder, seemingly wilting into him. Taking this as a sign he was doing something right-something she liked-he became a little more daring with his hands. First he slid them toward her bare stomach, enjoying the little shiver his metallic hand elicited from her. Then he edged his hands upward, gliding them smoothly over her lacy white bra. He let himself linger there for a moment, simply absorbing and delighting in the feel of her breasts before he started making small circles with his hands, evoking a soft moan from Padme's lips.

The sound made him stop, his hands springing away from her breasts. Had he hurt her? They were so soft, so delicate. Perhaps he had handled them too roughly, had been too eager with his touch.

Padme looked up at him quizzically. "What's wrong?"

"I...That sound. I thought I'd hurt you."

Her quizzical expression turned playful. "Ani, you didn't do anything wrong. It felt nice."

"Nice?" He repeated. "Like you were enjoying it?"

"Yes, exactly that."

"Oh," he said lamely. If not for the fact that he knew that she, too, had never been intimate with anyone before this night, he might have died of embarrassment right then. For all his prowess as a Jedi, he was totally inexperienced in this arena, though that was not entirely his fault. Of course, he wasn't _entirely_ innocent; during his preteen years, Obi-Wan had tried to explain to him the mysteries of sex, mostly in regards to puberty and reproduction. But his master had never gone into many details. He certainly hadn't advised his apprentice on how to please his wife on his wedding night. As far as he knew, Obi-Wan had never felt attraction toward anyone, so his master was just as-if not more-inexperienced.

As if reading his thoughts, Padme turned to face him, patting his hand. "It's okay. It's my first time too, remember? We're allowed to make mistakes."

Anakin took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips. She was so gracious to him, so kind. He truly did not deserve her-and yet here she was, offering her whole self to him as if he was some sort of god.

Padme reached toward his cheek, caressing his face with her small hand. "I want to make mistakes with you for the rest of my life."

"Me, too," he said, and then they both leaned in, sharing another kiss.


	3. Over the Edge

**NOW (Naboo, 19 BBY)**

Anakin remained still for a moment, not daring to move.

Balanced on the ledge of the wooden balcony of Padme's lakehouse, Anakin sat gazing through her window, silently watching her go about her routine. She must have just returned from her formal duties at the Peace Summit because she was decked from head to toe in senatorial attire, the lovely shape of her lost in her voluminous purple robes. Still, even conservatively dressed, she was a marvel to behold. Her porcelain face was as flawless as the day they'd wed, and her dark hair, perfectly coifed into buns at either side of her head, was something he could lose himself in.

He waited until she was occupied at her mirror to call upon the Force, using it to silently spring open the latch of her window. With a little more effort, he quietly slid open the window itself, noting how much Obi-Wan would disapprove of his casual use of the Force. Thankfully, the older Jedi was nowhere to be seen; he was lodging in a house on the other side of the lake, far enough away that he couldn't see or sense Anakin. Technically, Anakin was actually supposed to be lodging in the room next to Obi-Wan's-but tonight, he really didn't give a dewback's backside if Obi-Wan noticed he was gone. As he stepped through the open window with the quiet and grace of a Loth cat, all he cared about was making sure this moment with Padme-what might be his last time to see her for the next few months-was special.

He put on his most roguish grin. "Need help with that?"

Hands poised above the sash that held her dress closed, Padme gasped, turning toward him with a start. Her brown eyes were huge with shock, but then that emotion quickly turned to jubilation as she recognized him. With all of the unbridled joy of a schoolchild being released for Summer break, she rushed toward him and flung her arms about him, collapsing into his chest.

"Oh, Ani!" she exclaimed, voice brimming with youthful exuberance. "I heard rumors that you might not make it to the Summit. When Master Kenobi showed to the first peace talk without you, I thought you must've been...that they must have…"

"Sent me to the Outer Rim?" he supplied.

"Yes," she said, pressing herself harder against him. "The other senators say that the Separatists have withdrawn their forces there. I know it must be a sign that this terrible war is ending, but it's just so far, and I would have no way of knowing you were safe…"

He cupped her chin with his hand, tilting her face to look up at his. "I'm safe now, my love. You don't have to be afraid for me. I will _always_ come home to you."

She smiled weakly up at him. "Promise?"

"Promise," he said.

For a moment they just stood there in each other's arms, relishing the sheer fact that they were together once more. It felt like a lifetime since they had last seen each other, even though Anakin knew the exact time was probably less than a month. But a month was quite a long time when you were at war-anything could happen, he knew. He could be cut down in battle, she could be lost in another Separatist attack on Coruscant; the possibilities for disaster were endless. So they could only be thankful, reunited at last, that the Force had yet again allowed them to avert tragedy.

As grateful as he was to simply be with her, he couldn't help but grin playfully down at her. "You know, I can still help you get out of that dress. I'm told I'm very good with my hands."

Her fingers looped suggestively around his belt. "Is that so?"

He chuckled at that. "I hear _you're_ pretty good with your hands, too."

With a snap, she unfastened his belt, letting it drop to the floor. "Oh, they're more than just rumors."

There had been a time when he might have shied away from this, when he was too frightened to let himself be so bare and vulnerable before another person. But that time had passed. Like Winter giving way to Spring, he'd learned to abandon his inhibitions when he was in the presence of his wife, allowing her to see him just as he was-scars and all.

"Maybe you should show me in person," he said, snaking his arms about her waist.

And with the ease and familiarity that came with knowing the terrain of his body by heart, she did just that.

**THEN (Naboo, 22 BBY)**

Anakin stood still for several moments, not daring to make another move.

Right now, he felt as if he was balanced between two worlds, both of which were equally unfamiliar to him. One was the new world in which he had just set foot, the one where he was allowed to lose control and where chaos was not only welcomed but beautiful, like the prismatic heart of a newborn star. The other was the old world, where he'd learned firsthand the dangers of relinquishing control, of forgoing his training and following the commands of his heart. Listening to his heart, letting down his guard-that had nearly gotten him killed on Geonosis. And it had killed his mother-or at least it had failed to prevent her death.

In short, opening himself up meant getting hurt.

That was why he stood there, too petrified to make another move. It wasn't that he was ashamed of any of this; all of it felt right, as if all his life had been leading up to this night. But he was frightened of taking that further step, of relinquishing that last shred of control and allowing her to see him unclothed.

He was afraid of being so vulnerable.

Padme broke the stillness by placing her palm against his cheek. At her touch, some of the terror melted away like a new morning banishing the chill of the night. He could stay like this forever, warmed by the shining star that was her touch; he could let his head rest against her hand until the stars gave out and they were the only ones left to light the darkness. Correction: she could be the one to provide the light. He was trapped in the shadows, and it was only by the graciousness of his wife's love that he had been permitted to leave behind his life of darkness and stand in the light.

"Let me help you," she said, her voice tender yet strong. Soft yet somehow firm.

Swallowing hard, heart beating crazily within his chest, the only response Anakin could manage was a nod. With that, Padme's hand fell slowly away from his face and slid down his chest, causing his already quickened pulse to move even faster. Her fingers, so much smaller and more delicate than his own, wrapped around his belt. Then, wordlessly, she unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, leaving him without the weapon that was so integral to his identity, was so much a part of him, that his own master had called it Anakin's life.

And now it was gone, set aside by the one person he truly considered to be a part of him.

With a slight snap, Padme undid his belt and let it fall about his ankles. Awkwardly, still a little stiff with fear, he stepped out of the belt, using his foot to scoot it aside. Somewhat less awkwardly, he stripped off his boots and socks in a single move and tossed them in a pile atop his belt. His tunic soon joined them as his wife pulled it up and over his head, leaving him standing bare-chested before her.

She smiled to herself as she tentatively reached for his chest, pressing her warm palms to his bare skin. Returning her smile, he stood perfectly still as her hands snaked down his torso, riding the mountains and valleys of his body. It pleased him to see that she was blatantly admiring his musculature, letting her fingers linger over his abdomen and chest. That puzzled him for a moment; he had always been skinny, especially compared to more well-muscled Jedi like his master. But then the realization dawned on him: She had nothing to compare him to. For her, his body was the standard against which all others must be measured, as if he were the original masterpiece and all others were merely cheap imitations.

"You're perfect," she said, her hands resting over his bare chest.

He allowed himself a small grin. "Some would say that about you."

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

Once more her hands slid down his torso, his skin seeming to catch ablaze wherever her fingers touched. That heat deepened as her hand closed over the band of fabric that held up his trousers, and he realized with a twinge of embarrassment that he was blushing. In the absence of a mirror, however, he could only guess at how red his face appeared as his wife loosened the fabric, allowing his trousers to drop and pool about his ankles.

Although he was still wearing undergarments, he felt as if he were going to drown in a wave of self-consciousness. The barrier separating them was now so thin that he knew Padme could make out most of the shape of him. With another flush of embarrassment, it dawned on him that his wife could also tell how aroused he'd become, how much simply seeing and touching her had almost overpowered him. It made him feel weak, in a way, that it was so easy for him to reach this state of arousal. After all, didn't that make him just like every other man who saw women as nothing-who saw them as little more than a tool for their own pleasure?

But then Anakin realized how naive a thought that was. His arousal was a testament to the love he held for his wife. More than that, it spoke of the power that love had over him.

She was his world now.

Empowered by that truth, Anakin reached for Padme, drawing her into him once more. He was still somewhat self-conscious of the fact that she could feel how hard he was, but he didn't let it stop him. Instead he snaked his arms about his wife, hands once more roaming the landscape of her lovely form as they both leaned in for a kiss.

The kiss was softer than earlier-and much quieter. But that didn't diminish what they communicated in that kiss. In that moment, they shared with each other all their feelings of tenderness and love, letting the other know, wordlessly, that there was nothing that could stand between their them.

As they broke away from the kiss, Anakin gazed into Padme's eyes. Although blue eyes were regarded as beautiful by most, there had always been something special about her brown eyes. There was a depth to them, a sense that he could get lost in them if he stared at them long enough.

Gazing into them now, he understood what she needed from him, what she wanted him to do next.

Quietly, he bent slightly at the waist and lifted his wife once more from the floor. This time, however, he didn't merely place her back on the floor. Rather, he carried her toward the bed in the middle of the room.. Then he tenderly laid her down on the bed, as if she were a rare work of art that he could not afford to break.

Lying on her back, Padme smiled shyly up at him. He smiled back, but not quite as shyly; although his movements were slow, reverent, he was awash with a wild mixture of anxiety and excitement. They were so close to consummating their love-so close, in fact, that only a few undergarments separated them.

Just as quietly as he had picked her up, Anakin lowered himself into the bed. Once there, he carefully propped himself up one hand while he hovered above her, using the other to slide under Padme's and roam the length of her back. When his hand found the clasp of her bra, his fingers began fiddling with, trying to snap it open. It wasn't as easy he'd thought; for something so small, it was surprisingly difficult to open. He chuckled a little at that, marveling at how full of surprises this night had until the clasp finally clicked open, allowing him to pull her bra away from her chest.

And then he was greeted with another moment of surprise. No, not surprise-that was too weak a word to express what he was feeling right now. It was more like awe, a sense of open-mouthed wonder and amazement that he doubted even the greatest poets could accurately describe.

"Force," he murmured, breathless. "You are so beautiful."

As he ran his hand across her exposed breasts, he found himself trembling somewhat. This was not a reaction motivated by fear, however. No, this was awe again, an overwhelming sense of astonishment at her beauty. He had never known that anything could look this lovely, or feel so perfect and soft and full. If he had, he might have sought out Padme sooner, had set off after her and wed her as soon as he'd come of age.

But what was past was past. What mattered now was that they were here together, and that their love would soon be consummated.

Padme touched his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Make love to me,  
Ani. Please."

He laughed a little, a coy yet charmingly boyish grin on his face. "Your wish is my command."

With that he eased out of bed, his gaze still taking in the perfection of his wife's nearly naked form. At that moment, he was acutely aware of the effect she had on him. When she rolled to the side and propped herself up on one elbow, her breasts now dangling tantalizingly from her body, he felt a pulse of heat shoot from his chest to his groin, driving his arousal higher. This time, however, he didn't care what Padme saw; he simply stripped off his undergarments and tossed them aside, letting her see the entirety of him.

He let her look at him like that for a moment, noting with pleasure that her eyes were lingering on his intimate parts, obviously relishing the sight of him. Then he stepped back into bed, settling beside her. He let his metallic hand brush over the skin of her side, watched her shiver at the touch. She shivered once more as the hand moved higher up, trailing up her stomach and then up and over her breasts, lightly brushing her nipples.

After that, he slid his hand back down her side. He let his fingers trace over the curves of her hips, committing the shape of them to memory. Then he moved downward, descending toward the hem of her lacy panties. They looked as soft and light as her dress, but when he ran his fingers over them he realized that these were much thinner, almost to the point of being sheer. If he squinted, he thought he might be able to see the swath of hair lying beneath. But he didn't give himself that chance. Instead, his fingers had travelled to the inside of her panties, allowing him slowly edge them downward.

Without prompting, Padme lifted her hips off the bed, letting him slide her undergarments all the way down her legs. Now he could see her-all of her, from the perfect fullness of her breasts to her most intimate area-and it took his breath away. She was so different from him, so foreign. Where his intimate area was covered in dark hair, hers was lightly swathed in light, silky hair. Where he was large, jutting, almost knife-life, she was small and delicate, a pink rose wet with morning dew. It almost looked too fragile to disturb, as if those soft pink petals would fall apart when he entered her. But then he heard the echo of her words chiding him, reminding him that she wasn't as breakable as she seemed. She wasn't afraid of him hurting her, so he would relinquish his fear and let their love finally be complete.

Like a worshipper bowing before a god, he lowered himself over her slowly, carefully. He let himself inch closer and closer to her, close enough that he could press his lips to the inside of her neck from where he hovered over her, propped on his elbows. Padme sighed at the touch of his lips, a sound that somehow skyrocketed his already considerable arousal. He was stone-hard now, completely ready to enter her, to fill her. Her spreading open her legs was the last prompt he needed before he eased in her between her thighs, gently sliding into the warmth and smoothness of her.

Still kissing her neck, he probed around her area, searching for where he might enter her. At first he was simply pushing against flesh, probably the inner lip of her vulva. Then Padme, again being so patient with him, wrapped her hand lightly around him, filling him with an ecstasy he feared might send him over the edge. By some mercy, however, he somehow able to hold on as her hand guided him downward, directing him to the place where he could enter.

Feeling the spot, he eased himself into her, slowly filling up her space. She didn't react immediately; in the Force, he only sensed a mild puzzlement from her, as if she didn't know what to make of the sensation. However, as he began easing in and out of her, his strokes almost matching the beat of his heart, he felt her aura sparking with pleasure. She began sighing again, and the sighing-which almost sent him over the edge-deepened to moaning. And the moaning grew longer, louder, more unbridled. Her pleasure was skyrocketing, no longer a sparking but a whole fire-a fire that he had ignited, and that she had ignited within him.

Continuing to move in and out of her, Anakin marvelled at the sheer magnificence of it all. Obi-Wan had once told him that the most wondrous experience any mortal could have was when one allowed oneself to commune fully with the Force, to let it fill you with the mystery of itself. And while Anakin had no doubt that this was probably true for Obi-Wan and the other Jedi, it dawned on him that his master had been wrong. It wasn't communing with the Force that brought such pure, irrepressible bliss; it was being one with another person, to know them better than anyone else. To be able to see their most vulnerable areas and be let inside.

Because in this moment, they truly did know each other. They knew one another's most private fears; she had seen his fear of hurting her, and he had seen the pain that had filled her eyes whenever he was assaulted by memories of Geonosis. They knew each other's bodies, inside and out. And now, as Padme loosed a wild, unrestrained scream and he felt himself plunge over the edge, body wracked with waves of hot pleasure, they would know what it felt like to share euphoria.


	4. After

**NOW (Naboo, 19 BBY)**

Anakin let his eyes drift close, savoring the moment. He and Padme were both in bed now, still panting and sheened with sweat from their earlier encounter, his wife lying comfortably atop his chest. When he peeked an eye open, he could see that her eyes were closed and that there was a faint smile on her lips, as if she were lost in a pleasant dream.

He ran his flesh and blood hand along the small of her back. "You look cute when you're sleepy."

She peeked up at him. "Are you saying I don't look cute all the time?"

"You look _cuter_," he amended. He let a few of his fingers rest on her spine. "You should take it as a compliment. Obi-Wan said I look like a drunken Weequay pirate when I'm tired."

"You're _always_ tired."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

Her expression went from teasing to somber. "You have been looking tired for the past few months. More tired than usual, that is," she corrected when he started to protest.

Dragging a hand over his face, Anakin let out a sigh. Yes, he had been more tired these past few months. The war, and the responsibilities that came with it, were wearing him down to the bone. Even Obi-Wan, who was used to how haggard Anakin could look while away at war, had brought it up to him several times.

"I've just been so stretched thin for these past few months," he admitted. "It's been mission after mission, and for what? Another year of fighting? For every battle we win, it seems like we lose another. It's like this whole thing is a game of dejarik and both sides are at a stalemate."

She propped herself up on an elbow, regarding him. "Do you really think the war will go on for another year?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea at this point. I'm afraid they'll keep sending me out forever, taking me away from home." He ran a hand across her cheek. "Taking me away from you."

"Will they keep taking you away after the war is over?"

His hand dropped away from her face. Truthfully, he never allowed himself to think of what his life might be like after the war. It filled him with too much hope-and he had learned across the nearly three years of this wretched war that all his hopes would inevitably be dashed. The only thing he dared hope these days is that he would always return home to his wife, no matter the obstacles he faced.

"I'm serious, Ani. What if you're away just as much after the war? That would hardly be a life worth living-for either of us."

He bowed his head. "I know."

"Then what will you do about it?"

"I don't know," he said. "Sometimes, I just want to walk away from the Order, have an ordinary life with you. Have a family. But then at other times, I know that I'm meant to be a Jedi and that for all its flaws, there's still some good the Order can do in the galaxy." He rubbed tiredly at his temples. "I wish they would just change the rules and let us be. The galaxy would be better off if the Jedi stopped pretending they can't fall in love."

He knew that it happened. A few months after the outbreak of the War, Obi-Wan had admitted he'd once harbored feelings for the Duchess of Mandalore, although he'd always been vague on the details. What Anakin did know, though, was that his former master had contemplated leaving the Order for his love and had been left to deal with the regret of not doing so. His reasoning to Anakin, how he justified and dealt with all the regret, was that he would have had deeper regrets after leaving the Order-regrets that would have tainted his life with Satine and cut a knife of resentment between them. But what if he had been able to keep both? What if he had been allowed to remain in the Order _and _have a life with Satine? What-ifs were never certain, but Anakin couldn't help but wonder how full his friend's life would be, wonder about all the children he and Satine might have had together. Anakin would have loved being an uncle.

"Have you ever thought what it would be like," he opened after a long silence, "to start a family?"

Padme's gaze turned wistful. "I think of it all the time now. I just want us to be like everyone else-to simply live our lives and raise children and grow old together."

"If we ever had a kid, they'd be kriffing lucky to have you as their mother."

"I thought the Jedi didn't believe in luck?"

"Okay, okay. They'd be 'blessed by the Force' or something like that. You know what I mean."

She ran a hand down his bare chest. "If we had children, what would you name them?"

"Well, certainly not 'Obi-Wan.' He already has a big enough head as it is without us naming our kids after him."

"What about 'Ben'? Isn't that a nickname of Obi-Wan's?"

He poked her nose lightly. "Hey, what'd I just say about his big head?"

She grinned. "Look who's talking."

"If I have a big head," he retorted playfully, "it's because I've earned it." He brushed his hand along her side. "I don't know if you'd noticed, but word has it that your husband's an incredibly accomplished man."

Her finger traced a circle around his belly button. "And just what have you accomplished so far, 'Master Skywalker'?"

"Well…" His touch roamed down her side, letting it linger on her hip. "For one thing, I'm married the most amazing woman in the galaxy. And for another, my wife is always swooning over how handsome am I and how great I am in bed-"

"Hey!" She gave his rear a light slap. "I never tell you that!"

"Oh, that's right. She says I'm _the greatest_ in bed. Better than any other man in the galaxy." He pulled a mock-serious face. "And she also says I'm incredibly humble."

"Has she ever mentioned how atrocious your jokes are?"

He grinned down at her. "Only all the time."

She shook her head, laughing to herself. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Ani. You complete me."

He took one of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers. "And you complete me."

"When you get shipped off again, do you promise to come home to me as soon as you can?"

"That," he said, kissing the top of her hand, "is a promise I will never break."

**THEN (Naboo, 22 BBY)**

Anakin closed his eyes, praying that he might be able to lie here for another few hours. At the back of his mind, he was fully aware that he had already stayed here far too long, a fact that meant that he would likely be the recipient of Obi-Wan's censure when he returned to Coruscant. However, that meant very little to him at the moment. All he wanted right now was to lie next to Padme and feel the warmth of her bare skin against him.

Speaking of his wife, she was still asleep beside him. Her dark hair was fanned out behind her, pooling around Anakin's head so that he could breathe in the sweetness of it. Gently, he picked up a lock of that sweet hair and ran his fingers through it, marvelling at how low and silky it was. How very different it was from his own hair, which the Jedi made him keep in the short, clipped style of a Jedi padawan.

With the back of his hand, he stroked Padme's bare shoulder. Yes, she was different from him-in more ways than one. She had fought for peace on the floors of the senate, and yet here Anakin was, ready to go off to war. That's where he'd be headed once he returned to Coruscant, no doubt. At the very least, he expected to spend the next few weeks preparing to fight a war when he'd spent the last ten years learning how to keep the peace.

Unable to help it, Anakin wondered whether a marriage could survive when it consisted of two people with opposing roles. It was bad enough that they would be separated everytime he had training with Obi-Wan or had to go fight a battle on some far-flung world; now they would be forced to pursue diametrically opposed agendas. He would be the warrior fighting to destroy the enemy, she would be the voice of reason that wished to find a peaceful solution to all of the fighting and chaos. And together? Well, Anakin hoped they could master the art of abandoning their professional lives at the threshold of whatever place they would call home.

He silently prayed that the war that had brought them together would not tear them apart.

As if hearing that unvoiced prayer, Padme stirred in the bed. Lifting her head off her pillow, she craned her neck to peer up at him, eyes still somewhat hazy with sleep. But that didn't mean she didn't look any less beautiful. Quite the opposite was true. With her dark hair draped about her breasts and shoulders, Anakin was having a hard time keeping himself from climbing atop her and making love to her once more.

Her eyes widened when she saw the sunlight piercing through the bedroom window. "Ani, what time is it?"

"Almost noon," he admitted.

Her eyes grew even larger. "I thought you were supposed to be back at the Temple by now? Why didn't you wake me so I could send you off?"

He tucked a lock of stray hair behind her ear. "I had more important things to do."

She shook her head. "Ani, I appreciate you spending the morning with me, but I'm afraid that Obi-Wan will know something is up. He'll know by now that you probably spent the night here, and I don't think it takes a genius to guess what could've compelled you to spend the night on Naboo."

Sheepishly, Anakin looked away from her. She was right, of course; Obi-Wan was most likely suspicious of what was taking him so long on Naboo. Worse, he could've already shared his suspicions with Yoda or Master Windu, meaning Anakin could potentially be forced to make an impossible choice upon his return to the Temple: The Order may make him choose between a future with the Jedi or a future with Padme.

Sighing, he slipped out of bed and picked up his discarded utility belt. He picked it up and fiddled around with some of the pouches, hoping to find his holo-link. When he did find it, he pulled it out and thumbed it on, checking to see if his master had bombarded him with an onslaught of messages.

And to his surprise, his message queue was empty. That could mean that Obi-Wan's duties had him stretched so thin that he simply hadn't had the time to message Anakin. It had happened before, after all; as a boy, Anakin had snuck off from the Temple for an entire day without receiving any messages from Obi-Wan, only to find that his master had been too busy negotiating a peace treaty to inquire about Anakin's whereabouts. But that didn't necessarily mean that he'd gotten completely off the hook. In fact, the opposite had been true. When he had finally returned to the Temple after his day-long excursion, Obi-Wan had been irate, coming the closest Anakin had ever seen him to losing his temper.

But then again, Anakin could recall some instances when Obi-Wan actually hadn't noticed his padawan's absence. There was the time on Malastare, when a young Anakin had snuck out of their Jedi shuttle to go catch a late-night Podrace. And there were all those times when Anakin had met Palpatine in the lower levels of Coruscant, convincing Obi-Wan he was still in his quarters by dressing a protocol droid in Jedi robes and placing it in his cot. Those times were rare, of course, but they had happened-and perhaps it could happen again.

"I think I'm safe for now," he finally said.

"I'm glad, but perhaps we shouldn't test our luck any further."

Sighing, he nodded in agreement. "I'll go wash up."

Reluctantly, he retreated to the refresher, where a shower and what looked to be a polished durasteel bathtub were waiting. He washed up quickly, not allowing himself to regret the fact that her smell would now be gone from his skin. After patting himself dry with a towel, he returned to the bedroom, where Padme was now wrapped in a soft white robe. She watched him from the bed as he pulled on his Jedi robes, transforming from lover to warrior.

Eyes somewhat misty, she crossed the bedroom to wrap him in her embrace. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"Me neither," he said, brushing a warm tear from her cheek. "I've always hated goodbyes."

"My only comfort is that we won't have to go so long without seeing one another this time."

"Yeah, I doubt it'll be ten years before we cross paths again." He looked down, regarding her. "When do you think we'll be able to see each other?"

"I'll be back on Coruscant in two weeks," she said. "No doubt, my family will want to spend time with me after almost losing me to an assassin. I can only guess at how worried my father must be."

"I'll be at the Temple training for my first tour of duty. I can meet you at your apartment before I ship off."

"I'll be there," Padme said, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. "I'll be there waiting."

"And I'll be waiting, too," he told her softly. "I'll start waiting for you the moment we say goodbye."

Padme reached up toward him, stroking the side of his face. "No, my love. Not goodbye. Goodbyes are permanent. This is just until we meet again."

Leaning into her touch, he smiled down at her. She was so strong, so brave-and in more ways than one. His wife, as tiny and slender as she was, had the power to overcome any enemy, whether that be a droid army or the doubt and fear that their brief parting would inevitably bring.

"Yes," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Until we meet again, my love."


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Naboo, 19 BBY**

Seated comfortably on a tree stump overlooking the lake, Obi-Wan waited. He hadn't told his apprentice to meet him here; in fact, it was quite possible that Anakin still believed he'd fooled the Jedi Master into thinking he was still sleeping in the room adjacent to his own. But Obi-Wan wasn't that easily fooled. As soon as they'd arrived on this world, he knew instantly that Anakin would be spending his nights elsewhere-although that hadn't stopped him trying to convince Obi-Wan otherwise. Indeed, Obi-Wan had to admit that Anakin was rather clever in his deception, accounting for nearly all outcomes. His only misstep had been assuming that Obi-Wan wouldn't catch him sneaking back.

Obi-Wan knew that Anakin had passed through here yesterday evening; he could still feel the echoes of Anakin's presence whispering in the ground beneath his feet. If he had wanted, the Jedi Master might have followed his friend's Force echoes a few hundred meters east, where a large, wooden house stood guard over the glassy lake. He would probably find Anakin there-and, if he knew his former apprentice as well as he thought he did, he might find a certain other person as well. However, he'd resisted the temptation to do just that. After all, there was no value in confirming what he had suspected for some time now-and moreover, doing so might simply make things worse. Anakin was already teetering on the precipice between light and dark; one nudge could send him on a free-fall in the darkness.

Obi-Wan didn't want to be the one to push him.

So Obi-Wan had feigned blindness for the past few years, looking the other way as his friend attempted to deceive him time and time again. That hurt him somewhat; it was painful to realize that Anakin believed his former Master would place the Jedi Code above their friendship. But he understood why his friend felt the way he did. For all intents and purposes, he was everything Anakin was not-and as such, he might appear as though he were in the perfect position to judge his former student. After all, he had overcome the very temptations that now dragged Anakin down to his knees; he had given up fear, he had forsaken vengeance, and he had walked away from the one woman he'd ever loved. Yet despite all this, there was still a part of Obi-Wan that was not quite perfect, a part of him that refused to yield to the dictates of the Jedi Code.

He was deeply attached to Anakin Skywalker.

It had surprised him, the first time he had understood how much truly cared for his friend. He remembered the precise moment he came to that understanding, the moment he grasped that he was not as great a Jedi as he'd once believed himself to be. It had been over three years ago now, just after the outbreak of the war-and before any of them had grasped how truly long and blood that war would be. For the first time in a while, he had been allowed to remain at the Jedi Temple while his padawan took care of business, a prospect that had made him more than a little uneasy. For one thing, it had felt wrong to enjoy the serene beauty of the Temple when the galaxy had been plunged into one of the ugliest conflicts it would ever see. And for another, he had serious second thoughts regarding his decision to allow Anakin to escort Senator Amidala back to Naboo. He'd convinced himself earlier that it would be better if the Senator was able to tell his padawan in person that there could be no future between them; if he had been the one to force Anakin's decision, after all, the young man would have resented him for the rest of his life. But now that an entire day had passed and still no Anakin, he'd begun to fear the worst.

He'd considered trying to contact his apprentice, to send him a holo-message demanding to know where he was, right this instant. However, he'd been too aggravated at his own ill-advised decision to do so, and he had instead opted to roam the pristine halls of the Temple, trying but failing to calm the restlessness brewing within him. It was while roaming these halls that his apprentice had suddenly appeared at his shoulder, looking every bit as sheepish as Obi-Wan had expected him to be.

Obi-Wan had shot the younger man a side-long glance. There was so much that he'd wanted to say to Anakin. He'd wanted to yell at him, scold him, demand to know just what in the blazes had taken him so long on Naboo. He'd wanted to confront him about Amidala, let him know in no uncertain terms how he truly felt about his apprentice pining after a galactic Senator. Of course, he would have conveniently neglected to mention that he had once harbored similar feelings for the woman he'd once been assigned to protect, giving Obi-Wan the moral high ground in his accusations against Anakin. Giving him the right to call his apprentice out and give him the ultimatum.

But as he had continued to look at Anakin, he'd known he couldn't go through on any of it. The joy on the young man's face had been palpable, as real and as tangible as the ground underneath their boots. In fact, if Obi-Wan hadn't known better he might've thought Anakin was high on some illicit substance, something akin to the deathsticks offered to him by that awful Balasor in the Outlander Club.

In that moment, he'd realized he couldn't bear to destroy the little happiness his padawan still had left in life.

It was wrong, he knew. And it could even prove harmful to Anakin in the long run. But in that moment, Obi-Wan decided he didn't care-didn't care about any of it. His apprentice carried so much pain in his heart, so much guilt and grief, that the older Jedi had been relieved to see that something had the power to stave off Anakin's suffering, at least for a little while.

So instead of berating this man for finding joy in the face of pain, Obi-Wan had merely slowed his pace and asked, "How was your trip to Naboo?"

Even out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that the young man had been fighting to contain his jubilance. "It was good to see it one last time."

"It is a beautiful world," Obi-Wan had agreed. "I can understand why you didn't immediately return to Coruscant."

A small flash of alarm briefly lit his padawan's eyes. "I-I did get a little side-tracked, I suppose."

"I figured you would. You know, I once did the same thing when I was your age."

Anakin looked him, taken aback. "You did?"

"Yes, I did. I was on an extended mission with Master Qui-Gon in the ruins of the Mandalore system. He'd permitted me to take a few minutes to bid farewell to the world before we departed, but as things turned out, I remained there for much longer-so I could say goodbye." Stroking his beard, he'd allowed himself a wistful smile. "Some places have a certain magic to them."

Anakin had nodded in silent agreement, no doubt relieved that his master hadn't once mentioned Senator Amidala. He'd probably assumed Obi-Wan was merely nostalgic about some far-flung place he'd visited in his younger years-but nothing could be further from the truth. Mandalore's magic hadn't come from it beauty; indeed, the planet was a nuclear wasteland, reduced to a world of scorched white ash. No, Mandalore held its mystique because of the person he had left behind, the one he had forced himself to bid farewell, all those years ago.

And now, watching Anakin skirt carefully around the lake, casting about for any prying eyes, Obi-Wan knew his friend had found that same kind of magic on Naboo. He could feel it in the Force, as surely as he could feel the morning sun on his face. Soon, he could see it written across Anakin's face as the younger man drew close enough that Obi-Wan could see his smile, as if he was lost in a reverie that the older Jedi would never quite understand. After all, Obi-Wan had never spent the night with a woman before; despite their closeness, he'd never so much as shared a bed with Satine, nor had he ever seen her in any state of undress. Indeed, Obi-Wan would never know how intoxicating it was to be with a woman...or how easily one could get lost in one's recollections of the experience.

Obi-Wan was ashamed to admit that he was perhaps a bit jealous of his former padawan.

But that wasn't something he would dwell on. It was much better to be happy for his former apprentice, despite the fact he'd never be able to experience that same happiness for himself. That was how friendship worked: You rejoiced for your friends, even if you could never share in that joy.

As Anakin drew closer, Obi-Wan gave a tiny wave from where he was seated. "Hello there."

Looking as if he'd jumped out of his skin, Anakin came to an abrupt halt. Although Obi-Wan could tell that he was trying hard to keep his face carefully blank, the shock in Anakin's eyes was undeniable. He was no doubt weighing the possibility that Obi-Wan might have watched him leave the lakehouse-the one that was in the complete opposite direction of the one in which he was supposed to be spending his nights.

Obi-Wan nodded toward the direction from which Anakin had come. "I see you availed yourself of the Summit's complimentary breakfast. I don't blame you; Naboo's water birds have some of the best eggs the galaxy has to offer."

Anakin stared down at him, blinking. Of course, Obi-Wan didn't believe for a mynock minute that Anakin had travelled to the other side of the lake for a free breakfast, but he could tell that the younger man wasn't aware of this. For all he knew, Anakin was trying to assess whether or not this would be a believable excuse.

"Yeah, they do have some pretty good eggs," Anakin said after a moment, recovering from his initial surprise. "I also hear their tea isn't half bad."

"Unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to try it for myself." He met Anakin's eyes. "I'll probably venture over there sometime before we leave."

The way Anakin's face fell at those words...it was nearly enough to break Obi-Wan's heart. "We're leaving soon?"

"I'm afraid so, my friend," Obi-Wan replied. "Were you able to rest at all?"

Anakin's expression was effortfully blank. "Something like that."

"That's good to hear. I spoke with Captain Rex this morning and it seems we might be shipped off to Cato Neimodia soon."

"Any idea of how long we'll be there?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "A few months, if I had to guess." He pulled a face and added, "Though, I'm hoping our time there will be cut short sooner rather than later. The last time I was there, I almost caused a diplomatic incident when I accidentally inhaled some hallucinogenic fungus from a Manax tree."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately not. We'll have to hope that we're not deployed anywhere near a forest."

Anakin grinned. "Here's hoping I don't have to save your skin for the tenth time."

"And here I thought you weren't going to gloat about that again."

Anakin's grin widened. "I take my kicks where I can get them."

"No need to remind me of that."

For a blessed few moments, they stood there, grinning at one another as they both revelled in the nostalgia of their past misadventures. There had been so many throughout the years: Christophsis and Teth, Saleucami and Felucia. At this point, they'd shared in so many missions that he honestly had trouble recalling them all, a fact he somewhat regretted. He would have liked to keep a journal of their exploits during the war, if only to satisfy the curiosity of any future Jedi who might wish to know exactly what might have gone on during the Clone Wars. It would have been the closest thing he had to leaving something behind for the next generation.

But for right now, he was okay that these were memories he and Anakin alone could share.

Anakin broke the reverie by shooting him a quizzical look. "Not that it's any of my business, but-"

Obi-Wan interrupted him with a sigh. "What a way to begin a sentence."

Anakin ignored that. "But I was wondering if you ever got to deal with that personal business you told me about. You know, the stuff you mentioned before we parted ways yesterday."

Obi-Wan sighed again. Anakin was right; it wasn't any of his business. In fact, he didn't really want to think of it himself. To him, it was best to leave the past where it belonged: In the past.

"I took care of it," he replied after a brief pause. "I must confess that I'd been procrastinating on it for quite some time."

"You, a procrastinator?" Anakin lifted a brow. "It must have been something pretty awful for you to procrastinate."

Obi-Wan looked past Anakin to the lake, which seamlessly reflected the blue of the sky overhead. He was reflecting back to the moment he had come here last night, sitting right where sat he now, a tiny metal key resting in the palm of his hand. He had lost track of the number of years he had carried that key with him; it was probably approaching somewhere close to twenty years. Sometimes, he'd even forgotten it was there, tucked into the small pocket he'd sewn into the inside of his tunic. What he didn't doubt or forget, however, was what that key signified, what it had meant for him to carry it with him all these years. Its importance certainly hadn't been lost on him when he had finally mustered up the will to toss it into the middle of the lake, where it had undoubtedly vanished beneath the moonlit water.

With some effort, Obi-Wan returned his gaze to Anakin's. "Something like that."

Perhaps sensing this was a sore spot for his friend, Anakin didn't push any further. "Speaking of awful things, when do we ship out?"

"As soon as we bid farewell to some of the Summit leaders. We may be at war, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't use proper etiquette."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Does it always come back to etiquette with you?"

"Not always," Obi-Wan said dryly, keeping a straight face. "Sometimes it's about how much I can aggravate my former padawan as payback for all the years I had to put up with his impetuousness."

"I may have been impetuous," Anakin retorted in a light tone, "but at least I have a sense of humor."

"Well, in the case…" Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet, casually stretching his arms as if he were preparing to go on a jog. "Perhaps you can use that humor to charm some of the politicians."

His friend clapped him warmly on the back. "Only if you promise not to flirt with any of the female politicians. I always had to keep myself from vomiting whenever you did that with Ventress."

"You're so funny that I forgot to laugh."

"I try my best, master."

"Yes. Well. Please be sure to try your best with the politicians as well."

Anakin pressed his lips into a tight line, obviously fighting not to smile. "No promises. It'll be hard to compete with the man who can make women swoon by just looking their way."

"Your humor is once again unmatched," Obi-Wan retorted dryly. "But fortunately, I won't be trying to make anyone swoon. An old friend of ours is scheduled to see us off."

Anakin cocked his head to one side. "An old friend?"

"Yes. Senator Amidala has been our friend for quite some time, you know."

At that, a ripple of joy went through Anakin, strong enough that Obi-Wan thought he might be able to simply reach out and touch it. Clearly, most Jedi would know that something-but Obi-Wan was content to pretend that he didn't. He even pretended not to notice when Anakin could no longer contain his joy and a broad, infectious smile brightened his angular features.

The smile somehow lessened Obi-Wan's fear of all the future might hold.

**FIN**


End file.
